


Sweet Escapes

by Myxini



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Belly Rubs, M/M, Stuffing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myxini/pseuds/Myxini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake's being distant and uncommunicative, and Dirk doesn't handle his emotions very well.</p><p>An unabashed kink fic with mildly shippy tendencies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Escapes

**Author's Note:**

> Because this kink is underrepresented as hell.
> 
> Also -- in case you missed the tag, there's a slight bit of puking in here, so if you're emetophobic, you probably don't wanna read this. If you are, on the other hand, emetophilic and found this because of the tag... sorry, don't get your hopes too high.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT] \--

TT: Hey man.  
TT: What’s up?  
TT: It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?  
TT: Gettin’ kind of quiet over here.  
TT: Bit lacking in adventure, if you know what I mean.  
TT: Anyway.  
TT: If you could answer when you get this, that’d be cool.

 

Dirk stared at his own orange text, sitting alone in the Pesterchum window and looking stupid. His eyes flickered to the clock in the corner of his screen. Nearly two hours had passed since his first message, and still no response.

He had no idea where the fuck Jake even went. He hadn’t been here for three days and hadn’t even sent a message since yesterday morning. Wasn’t that too long? Was it unreasonable to want to hear from your boyfriend every twenty-four hours or so?

He swallowed. The silence was beginning to thunder in his ears, and he swore to God the walls of his bedroom were beginning to squeeze in….

He opened a new pesterlog.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--

TT: Are you busy?  
TG: yooooo dirk  
TG: i can talk but ill be in and out sorry  
TG: got my hands full over here :P  
TT: Where are you?  
TG: janeys creepy lil planet  
TG: she wont admit it but shes wayyyy down in them dumps  
TG: so im working my bff majyggks  
TG: or however you spell that  
TG: w/e aint got time for spelling shit  
TT: What’s she upset about?  
TG: lotsa stuff  
TG: mostly her dad  
TG: that capslock superdouche apparently told her that hes dead :(  
TT: Fuck.  
TG: yeah ikr  
TG: i told her not to trust him cuz i wouldnt put it past the little shitface to lie just to upset her  
TG: but of course shes still worried  
TG: and then there’s the whole jake thing  
TT: Oh.  
TG: guess thats a bit awk to bring up with you tho  
TG: since the ss strider-english seems to have set sail  
TG: hmmmmmmmmmmmm???  
TG: *wonk*  
TT: Kinda.  
TG: knew it  
TG: anchors away! wooooo  
TG: so hows that going  
TT: Fine.  
TT: It’s great.  
TT: Everything’s great.  
TG: well thats good  
TG: nice to hear that somebodys life isnt a mess  
TG: hey so do you and him want some cake?  
TG: janes been stress baking all week n im p much done with cake forever  
TG: srsly im gonna hurl if i ever taste another pastry  
TT: Yeah, we could take some, I guess.  
TT: Sendificate one over.  
TG: one? how does three sound lmao  
TG: i am drowning in cake you have no idea  
TG: this is me begging you to take it off my hands  
TT: If you insist.  
TT: It’ll be tough, accepting confectionery made from scratch by a girl who’s been baking since age four, but I’ll do it just for you.  
TG: oh yeah im swooning over here from the magnitude of your chivalry  
TG: like some sort of heroic knight swooping in to save me from the typhoon of crocker baked goods  
TG: bravely signing yourself up for romantic kypton-lit cake date w/ english  
TG: *woooonk*  
TT: You know it.  
TG: anyway yeah ill send those over now.

There was a slight pop from the other side of the room. Dirk glanced up to see three white bakery boxes sitting near the appearifier.

TT: Got them.  
TT: Thanks.  
TG: theres more where that came from if you ever want it  
TG: oh yeah so whatd u wanna talk to me abt?  
TT: Oh.  
TT: Nothing in particular.  
TT: I was just bored. Longing for some intelligent conversation.  
TG: lmfao  
TG: i bet your brain cells are actively dying off w/ only jake to talk 2  
TG: but actually im gonna have to deny you my lifegiving presence for now  
TG: gonna see if i can tear janey away from the oven long enough to get some fresh air or something  
TG: because i am the best fucking friend  
TT: You deserve a medal.  
TG: hell yes i do  
TG: a big gold one with “best bitch” stamped across it  
TG: in fuckin rhinestones  
TG: make it happen  
TT: I’ll see what I can do.  
TG: sweet im outtie

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

Dirk sighed and leaned back in his chair. Well, that had completely backfired. If anything, he felt even worse now. 

A soft but sick beat sounded by his elbow. He looked down to see Squarewave staring empathetically up at him. “Yo, my main man, you ain’t looking so chill, let’s drop some rude rhymes, get some fires in the grill—” 

“Not now, dude.” Dirk pushed the robot away and stood up. It was nice of Squarewave to try to cheer him up, he guessed. But he couldn’t handle hearing half-assed pre-programmed iterations of his own style rapped back at him. Not at the moment. 

He crossed the room and picked up the small stack of cakeboxes. They were all tied up with white string, the way Jane always did. Even though the cardboard, he could smell the sweet sugary scent of Jane’s baking. His mouth watered. 

Fuck romantic krypton-lit cake dates. For all Dirk knew, the cake would all be fucking stale by the time Jake got back. If he missed out, it was his own goddamn fault. 

Dirk carried the boxes over to his bed. He went to the kitchen for a fork, knife, and plate, and then sat down next to the stack and opened the first box. 

It was a chocolate cake, so moist that the dark sponge glistened as Dirk cut himself a generous slice. The frosting was dark green. He couldn't help but wonder whether Jane had been thinking of Jake when she baked it. 

It was delicious, of course. Despite all the evil things the batterwitch had done, nobody could argue that her recipes were not as scrumptious as advertised on the box. In Jane’s capable hands, they were enough to make grown men weep. 

Maybe, someday, Dirk Strider would weep while eating something Jane had baked. But today was certainly not going to be that day. 

He finished his slice and cut himself another, and then another. After the third piece, he muttered “fuck it,” and dug his fork right into the cake itself. What was even the point of resisting. 

Soon nearly a third of the cake was gone and he was feeling pretty full. He put down his fork and went to check the computer, because maybe the auto-responder was intercepting his messages or something. The little shit did that sometimes. But no, the log was still empty. Sighing a little, he wandered back over to his bed and pulled the cakebox onto his lap. 

Another couple slices’ worth and yeah, he was really fucking full now. He pressed a hand against his belly—feeling the firm, slightly painful little bulge that had formed under his shirt—and groaned quietly. God, it had been a long time since he’d done this. He hadn’t needed to since he built his robots. But before that, back when he was a lot younger and had absolutely no one around to talk to, he used to find comfort in food this way. Whenever he got upset, he’d eat himself into food comas and sleep until he didn’t care about anything anymore. 

Considering the circumstances, it was as good an option as any. He doubted anybody was going to come in and see him like this, so why the hell not soothe his hurt feelings by abusing his stomach? 

He took another bite and gagged a little. The icing was getting sticky in his throat. He pulled a small bottle of orange soda from his sylladex, twisted off the top, and knocked back a few glugs. 

“Dude, what are you doing?” The auto-responder’s stupid voice echoed from the shades lying on the edge of the desk. 

“Overeating,” said Dirk offhandedly as he dug into the cake once again. 

“Yeah, no shit. Maybe I don’t understand, seeing as I don’t have a stomach, but I don’t see how that’s going to do anything except make you sick.” 

“Fuck off. I don’t have to explain myself to myself.” 

Soon, there was only a quarter of the cake left. Dirk worked through it slowly but steadily, washing down the heavy, sticky bites with swallows of orange soda. He drained the last of the bottle just as he was scraping the dregs from the bottom of the box. 

He pushed the empty cakebox onto the floor and heaved a careful breath, gingerly rubbing his stomach. It was rounding out, swelling over the waistband of his sweatpants. It ached a bit—no surprise, seeing as it was holding an entire fucking cake—but not enough to make Dirk want to stop. The slow, pleasant feeling of overeating was somehow worth the pain. 

On a whim, he pulled a fresh bottle of soda from his sylladex and began chugging. Unlike the cake, which was heavy and settled like a compact mass inside him, the soda was bubbly and sloshy and insisted on making space for itself. He swore he could feel his stomach expanding with every swallow. 

Halfway through, he had to pause and wait for his belly to stop rolling. He’d never done this with soda before. It was undoubtedly lot harder to hold down than the cake. But it was almost gone. A few more valiant swallows and he let the bottle fall to the floor before letting out a gigantic belch. 

“You do realize how pathetic this looks from where I'm sitting, right?” said an obnoxious synthesized voice. 

Dirk grabbed the glasses and lobbed them across the room. They smacked against the wall and landed in a pile of puppets. 

“Ouch, bro,” said AR. “I’m just trying to help.” 

In response, Dirk grabbed the second cakebox and picked up his fork again. This one was a yellow sponge cake with buttercream frosting. 

His belly was so distended that he could see it under his T-shirt now. There was no more softness to it—it was swollen tight. And it was really, really starting to hurt. The soda had been a mistake. His stomach was upset as hell. But whatever. It matched his feelings, and there was something poetic about that, he guessed. 

He was a glutton for punishment, among other things. 

He ate and ate. Little burps and hiccups forced their way up his throat as the cake fought for room. It was really fucking obvious that he’d never finish this whole second cake, so he settled on half. He made a slice down the center and told himself that if he could eat that much, he’d be happy. 

There was not a whole of pleasure left in gorging himself at this point. It hurt too much now. But he kept going, mostly out of stubbornness and self-hatred. Slowly but surely, the cake disappeared, until finally, he forced down the last mouthful and bit back a moan. 

He had to stop. Any more and he would probably explode. Or at the very least, blow chunks. 

His swollen belly forced him onto his back. He lay there, breathing carefully because there really wasn’t room for air inside him anymore. The cake was heavy and the soda was bubbly and together they were wreaking havoc on his insides. 

“Are you starting to feel like an idiot yet?” asked the auto-responder. 

Dirk said nothing. He swallowed his self-loathing, despite feeling like he never wanted to swallow anything ever again. 

For about ten minutes, he lay there, just holding his overloaded stomach and biting back groans. Then he heard the front door open, and his heart nearly stopped. 

Holy shit. Nobody was supposed to see him like this. He would’ve sprung up and locked the bedroom door, but there was no way he was going to be able to move. 

As long as it wasn't Jake. He had no idea who else it would be… maybe Squarewave had gone outside? Or Sawtooth? Hell, maybe Lalone and Crocker had come to visit, which would be kinda embarrassing, but nowhere near as mortifying as if it were— 

“Heavens to Betsy, Dirk. What in tarnation happened here?” 

Dirk grit his teeth and glared at the wide-eyed boy standing in the doorway. “Get the fuck away from me, English.” 

Jake didn’t listen, which was not surprising in the slightest. He took a few steps into the room, surveying the empty plates of cake crumbs and orange soda bottles. His brows knit in that damnably adorable way of his. “Something is definitely not right.” 

“Everything is fine. Clearly.” 

“I daresay it’s not. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on? You know what they say, about communication being important in relationships and all.” 

Dirk felt his blood boil. “Oh, you’re right. How the fuck did I forget that? Thank God I’ve got you, master of effective communication, to set me straight!” 

Jake stared at him blankly, apparently confused by the sudden outburst. 

Dirk glared daggers at him. “You wanna know what’s going on here, asshole? Sometimes I eat too much when I’m upset.” 

“Oh! What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Can’t I get you anything?" 

“I don’t know,” said Dirk sarcastically. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you with my neediness.” 

Jake’s brow wrinkled. Then—finally—everything seemed to click, and his face fell like a clumsy kid down a flight of stairs. He looked hurt, for an instant—then his expression flipped to anger. “Oh, come now! You’re acting like a prepubescent girl.” 

“Actually, I think what’s going on here is that you’re too insensitive a fuck to even realize that I’ve got feelings.” 

“Well, terribly sorry it upset you that I forgot to get your permission to so much as sally forth from this dwelling!” Jake huffed. He turned and stormed out of the room, and for a moment, Dirk thought he had left and had to choke back an urge to call after him. But then he returned with a box of antacids from the cabinet in the bathroom and a glass of water. 

Dirk scowled. “What makes you think I want those?” 

Jake glared right back at him and shook two from the container. 

“Did you think, Jake, that maybe I don’t want to feel better? Maybe I like suffering. Maybe I get off on it. Or maybe I just want you to _leave me the fuck alone.”_

Jake pulled one of Dirk’s hands away from his stomach, pressed the tablets into his palm, and pushed his fingers closed around them. 

“Huh. Not gonna talk to me, are you? How surprising, after you’ve been so good at communicating all this time you’ve been gone.” 

“Dang-blast it all, Dirk!” Jake slammed the glass of water down on the bedside table furiously. “So I missed a few of your never-ending obsessive messages. I’m sorry, okay? I’m not used to having to answer to people. I grew up alone on an island! Can you blame me for needing a little space?” 

“Yeah well, I grew up alone too. Did you ever fucking think of that?” Dirk crushed the antacid tablets into a powder in his fist and let the dust trickle to the floor. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve had anyone around who isn’t a puppet or a robot or some infuriating alternate version of myself. Do you realize how miraculous it is to me that I’m not trapped alone this shitty apartment? Sometimes when you leave, I can’t convince myself that you were ever actually here. I try to get out of this house—take a walk, see that there’s poison gas and shiny shit outside and not just one giant godforsaken ocean. But I still feel like everyone’s gone, like I’m gonna be alone forever, the way I grew up thinking I was gonna be. And you know what? I get fucking scared.” He paused. “Can you blame me for being a little clingy?” 

Jake stared off into space for a few seconds. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed. He took Dirk’s hand—which was trembling a little, still in a fist, smeared with pastel powder—and stroked the knuckles with his fingertips. 

“I’m not gone,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t touch me,” said Dirk, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes without speaking. It was quiet, except for the gurgles and groans of Dirk’s stomach. A particularly angry one prompted Jake to give it a gentle pat. 

Dirk winced. “Don’t do that.” 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” 

“I feel like shit.” 

“Figured so. C’mon, sit up.” 

Dirk shook his head. “Can’t.” 

“Balderdash.” Jake grabbed Dirk’s hand, slipped an arm under his shoulders, and gently levered him up. Dirk groaned and burped as everything fizzed inside him. 

“See, there’s your problem,” said Jake, settling onto the corner of the bed behind Dirk. “All those bubbles in your tummy. We’ll take care of that.” He gave Dirk a hearty thump on the back. 

“Dude, whoa.” He clutched his stomach as a huge gas bubble churned up and out of him. 

“There we go!” said Jake brightly. “That’ll make you feel better.” He thumped again. 

Dirk let out another massive burp. There was definitely a release of pressure, but he was paying for it with a sudden bout of nausea. He massaged his stomach gingerly, trying to settle it. “Jake, I— _urp_ —I don’t know if— _urp_ —this such a good—” 

And then he felt his insides heave. His muscles spasmed and suddenly he felt cold and then he threw up a little spurt of disgusting orange-tinted mixture all down the front of his shirt. 

“Holy fucking dicks,” he gasped weakly, wiping away the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. 

“Oh cornsarn it all.” Jake rubbed his shoulders gently. “That wasn’t supposed to happen…. Well, did it make you feel any better?” 

“Yeah, a bit.” He hadn’t vomited very much, but it seemed that just getting even a bit out of there was helping everything settle inside him. It felt like his stomach had given up fighting its offensive contents, and now was just stretching to hold them. Instead of churning, it was relaxing into a simple swollen ache. “I don’t think it’ll happen again.” 

“Good. Put your arms up for a moment.” Jake pulled off Dirk’s shirt, careful to keep the mess from getting into his hair, and threw it on the floor. Then he took Dirk’s shoulders and carefully settled him against his chest. 

The air was a little chilly on his bare skin, but Jake was a roaring furnace of a person and leaning against him was nice. It was just his insides that were uncomfortable. He groaned a little, flinching as a spasm of pain wracked his overloaded stomach. 

Jake placed his hand on the curve of Dirk’s belly and began to rub slow, gentle circles. “Does that help at all?” 

It did, and Dirk nodded. He let out a breath and relaxed as the aching subsided. 

“Do you do this to yourself often?” Jake asked. He sounded a little awed. 

“Used to. Not so much anymore. This was the first time in years. Never had anybody here to take care of me, though.” 

“Well, I oughta. This whole dag-blasted mess is half my fault.” 

Dirk shook his head. “It really isn’t. It’s just me and my fuckin’ problems.” He sighed. “I know I got issues and you don’t deserve to deal with my shit. I’ll give you more space from now on.” 

“Hmm, you know….” Jake stroked Dirk’s hair, combing his fingers between the soft spikes. “Maybe we can work on that over time. Slow and steady.” 

“…You think?” 

“Yeah. And I’ll be better too! Answer your messages. Let you know where I’m going before I fuck off. I’ll try my best! But I might mess up at first, so if you could give me some time to get used to it… and I’ll forgive you for being too clingy if you’ll forgive me for….” Jake sighed impatiently. “Okay, what I’m saying is that I think we can make this work. If you want to.” 

“Mmm.” Dirk closed his eyes. “Of course I want to.” He yawned. Now that his stomach didn’t ache so much, it felt like an enormous weight inside him. 

“You look plumb tired,” said Jake. “That’s dandy, you oughta sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” 

But it was Jake who drifted off first. Dirk felt his hands drift to a stop—one resting on his belly, the other entwined in his hair—and heard soft, rumbling breaths. Jake’s gentle snoring was like a lullaby and soon Dirk was asleep as well. 

When he woke up, lying flat on his bed under a soft blanket and feeling a hell of a lot better, he could tell from the warm solidness pressed against his side and the rustle of the pages of a comic book that Jake was still there. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just thought I’d mention… if you leave a comment with a scenario or character you’d like to see stuffed, I’ll probably write it for ya. ^^ Might take me awhile to get around to it, but I like writing this sorta crap and I run out of ideas, so…


End file.
